Early Days
by nh09jrb
Summary: A collection of fluff oriented one-shots following the developing friendship between Elissa and Alistair as they journey across Ferelden in their fight against the Blight. Prequel of sorts to "Burdens and Bonds".
1. Lost

Whoever had thought that trekking across Ferelden was a good idea had clearly been mad; and Elissa had no intention of claiming such a dubious honour. Days of walking and it still did not seem that they were any closer to Lothering. Then again, she was unaccustomed to travelling any great distance on foot, let alone carrying her own supplies into the bargain.

Still, the one advantage to the monotonous journey was the effect it appeared to be having on her fellow Grey Warden. Her superior, she supposed; though Alistair had shown he was more than content to follow her lead. That might change once he shook himself from his melancholy, but for the moment she had accepted the responsibility with little more than an obligatory protest. Besides, the dull memory of her own grief—kicked to the back of her mind in the desperate hope that it might be forgotten—helped to shore up the patience she had for Alistair. Whatever else Duncan had been to him, the man clearly held importance for the young recruit and while she did not know how to address his loss directly, Elissa often deflected the stinging barbs which Morrigan was all too ready to throw in his direction.

When they stopped to make camp for the night, Elissa would have happily dropped down on the ground and not moved until dawn. Hard experience, however, had taught her that no matter how sweet those first few hours of rest were, without a fire she would spend the remainder of the night wide awake, shivering, and cursing her laziness. So she had indicated that Alistair was to join her in the search for firewood while the Mabari was to remain and guard the Witch and their belongings. The dog had given a whine at the order but one firm glare in his direction had silenced the protest. It was true Morrigan had little patience for the creature but she was significantly kinder to the Mabari than she was to Alistair, and for all she was a fabled Witch of the Wilds, the thought of just abandoning her in some remote corner of the swamp while they fetched kindling did not sit well with the new Warden.

Yet as weariness caused her feet to drag through the undergrowth, Elissa rather regretted her noble intentions. The Mabari could have guided her right back to camp but as it was, she was left to scan the trees and thistle bushes ahead of her, searching for the trampled undergrowth which she and Alistair had trodden from the camp. It was a task which was not aided by the growing gloom, and eventually she stumbled to a halt.

With a grunt, Alistair lurched to one side in an attempt to avoid walking into her. "Elissa? What's wrong?"

"Nothing!" Her voice was too high but Maker help her, she could _not_ admit that she was lost.

"Right," he drew the word out, and she could _feel _his stare boring into the back of her head. "Well, are you going on, then?"

"I was waiting for you," she huffed, tightening her arms around the bundle of sticks she was carrying as she threw a disdainful glance over her shoulder. "Hurry up, won't you?"

His face fell. "I'm following you!"

A little pang of guilt pricked at her conscience. She had not intended him to take the rebuke quite so personally. "Well, come on then." She stole a fraught glance around the landscape in front of her before committing to carrying straight on and hoping for the best. "This way."

Alistair fell into step with her, adjusting his long stride to match her shorter one, and she risked a sidelong glance in his direction. His forehead was furrowed and his brows drawn into a pensive if unseeing stare.

Another stab of guilt goaded her into scrabbling about for some kind of conversation which might shake him from his gloom. "So... tell me about the Grey Wardens."

"Such as they are."

She threw a look skywards. Bad choice. "Well, what do you want to talk about?"

Alistair shrugged.

Her patience at an end, Elissa gave up any further attempt to engage with him and instead concentrated on her surroundings. She could not remember having passed by that misshapen trunk but the stagnant pool to her far left seemed familiar. At least, she thought it did. No, the slime covered rock had been on the other side of the rotten branch. Hadn't it?

Oh Maker; she was most definitely lost.

Throwing the bundle of sticks to one side, Elissa ground to a stop beside the rotten tree trunk and kicked at the dirt beside it. Damp but not especially disgusting, it was better than the thought of continuing to traipse through this endless wood. She sank onto the ground with a small grunt, remarking tersely, "I need to sit down."

Alistair made no comment but obediently set his armful of kindling next to her abandoned pile. Scoping out the ground around his feet, he found a suitable patch a few yards from her and dropped down, keeping his head bowed.

Drawing her legs up against her chest, Elissa rested her chin on her knees as she attempted to weigh up what she should do. The uncomfortable silence stretching between them was clearly unsettling Alistair though. He reached into the money belt he carried and drew out what looked like a small worry token, demonstrating a surprising amount of dexterity as he played it through his fingers.

The repetitive movement was a welcome distraction from mulling over her very limited options and Elissa cleared her throat.

"Tell me about _that_, then."

Alistair gave a start. "What?"

She waved a hand towards the token.

"This?" His eyebrows lifted in surprise. "It's nothing much. I just liked the design on it." He held the token up between his forefinger and thumb and held it out to her so that she could make out the worn etchings on it. "Runes." His gaze lifted to meet hers. "Do you know much about them?"

Elissa shook her head.

"Neither do I, really. There's so much to know and I've only scratched the surface." There was a brief pause before he gave a weak chuckle at the unintended pun.

She felt her mouth curve in reciprocation of his lightened mood and she arched an eyebrow, encouraging him to continue.

Catching sight of the gesture, he gave a small shrug. "I studied them a little during my time in the Chantry. Probably should have concentrated more on how to defend against a mage rather than being able to recognise what runes they carved on their staffs." At that, he flashed another grin in her direction; one that was not crooked.

Her smile widened, pleased to see the shadows chased from his face, and she gestured at the token again. "So, what does that rune mean?"

"It's difficult to tell," he replied slowly, bringing the token up to his nose and squinting at its surface.

Elissa bit back a giggle as she watched him go cross-eyed. Hearing the muffled sound however, the frown resurfaced on his features as Alistair shot her a disgruntled look, mistaking her amusement as a sign of derision.

"Your eyes..." she babbled, but seeing his gaze beginning to lower and his hand move to secret the token away, she hastily widened her eyes while focusing on the end of her nose. "See?"

Her demonstration shook free a chortle from Alistair. "Oh. Right."

"Go on." She blinked rapidly as she looked back towards him. "Why's it difficult to tell?"

"It's worn down. It was like this when I found it. But," he gazed down at the token in his palm, "I think it might be intended for healing. Morrigan might know but, well, you know..."

"I know," Elissa nodded. "Maybe get someone to enchant something with it."

"What if it's dangerous?"

His question prompted a peal of laughter from the woman before she stretched across and patted at his knee. "I doubt it could be more dangerous than chasing after an Archdemon." Retracting her arm, she pulled at the cord of the small pouch she kept on her belt and retrieved a small white stone nestled next to the few coppers loitering inside. Holding it out to him, she tapped her finger at the gold writing decorating one side. "Is this a rune?"

Alistair accepted the stone, poring over it with interest. "Yes. At least, I think so. Wow, where'd you find it?"

She shrugged. As practical as it was, she had noticed that Alistair did not always approve of her more mercenary tactics when it came to sifting through the belongings of corpses. And if the small stone would cheer him up then she had no intention of souring the effect with the truth. "Amazing what you find on the road if you keep your eyes open."

Absorbed in studying the symbol, there was no sign that he had heard her. Rather than disturb him, Elissa seized on the opportunity to sneak a last desperate look around in the vain hope that the path back to camp might have miraculously revealed itself.

No such luck.

She sighed, finally conceding that she needed to admit the truth to her companion. "Alistair. I think we're lost."

"Hm? Oh, I know," he mumbled, still intent on examining the white stone. "The camp is back that way," he jerked his head in some vague direction behind them. "You skirted around it when you were avoiding the thistle patch."

Her mouth fell open. "You _knew_?" Humiliation turned to indignation and she scrabbled back up onto her feet, looming over him as she scolded. "Maker's breath! Why would you _do_ that? Why didn't you _say_ something instead of letting me walk past!"

"I would have if you'd kept walking much further..." Alistair stared up at her, face falling. "I just... didn't want to embarrass you."

"Oh!" she spun on the ball of her foot, stamping a few steps from him as she threw her hands in the air. "Because _this_ is so much better!"

"Well, yes. Wouldn't you rather we were walking towards camp, rather than away from it? Now we will be."

Faced with such undeniable logic, Elissa let out a weary groan, rolling her head backwards so she could stare up into the tree canopy. Behind her, there were clinks and clunks of armour as Alistair found his feet. Not that she could blame him for preferring to stand; her behaviour had been uncalled for. She had no right to try and intimidate him like that.

"Hey." The word was tentative, as though he was unsure what response it might elicit, but there was no resentment in his voice. "I'm sorry I didn't say anything..."

"It's not your fault," she interrupted, unable to keep the irritation from her voice as much as she tried to. "I'm the one who got us lost."

"We're not lost. We're scouting the area for potential threats."

Elissa stiffened. Unsure that she could believe what she was hearing, she twisted at the waist so that she could level an incredulous stare at the man. "Oh really?"

He offered her another crooked grin, accompanied with a shrug of his shoulders. It seemed the two went together. "You mean that's not what we're doing?"

The tension in her body began to ease and she shifted position, turning to face him fully. After a few moments of studying him intently, she allowed a self-conscious smile to creep across her face. "Of course we are. What, did you think I was lost?"

Alistair chuckled. "See?" Stooping to pick up both bundles of firewood, he continued, "and if Morrigan does say anything, just tell her I needed to talk about Ostagar." A small sigh escaped from him while he adjusted his stance so that the firewood was collected under one arm. "She'll probably just roll her eyes."

"Alistair?"

He raised his head. "What?"

"If you do want to talk, about Ostagar, then I'll listen. What happened at Highever..." a tremor in her voice forced her to stop and she cleared her throat. She was determined not to allow herself to wallow. Acknowledging it would only distract her; if she ignored it long enough then it would vanish eventually, she was certain of it. "I'm here to listen."

"I know," he gave a slow nod. "Just, not yet. Maybe soon, though?" He held out the white stone to her. "Here. Thanks for letting me look at it."

Elissa shook her head, pushing his hand back against his chest. "You keep it. What do I know about runes? If you discover anything interesting though then let me know."

He hesitated before accepting the small gift. "Thanks."

"It's nothing," she shrugged, though his gratitude warmed her. "Come on then, show me the way back."

With Alistair taking the lead, it was a straightforward matter to return to the small clearing that was to be their camp for the night. Nearing the edge of it, Alistair suddenly slowed his pace and dropped behind her, allowing Elissa to lead them the last of the distance.

Morrigan greeted their return with a customary snipe, looking past Ethe other woman so that she could eye Alistair coldly. "T'would be wise if in future, I did not consent to sending the one hope this country has into the woods with only a dolt for protection."

"Actually," Elissa spoke up, pretending to be absorbed in making a fuss of her hound as he bounded up to greet her, "I got lost. If it wasn't for Alistair, I'd still be wandering around out there."

"Such admissions do not inspire confidence, Warden."

Elissa forewent a remark in favour of sneaking a sideways glance at Alistair. He was busying himself with preparing the firewood so that it was ready for Morrigan to light with her fire spell but Elissa was certain that the corner of his mouth was twitching.

Apparently getting lost was good for morale.


	2. Stewin' Over

The sun hung low in the sky, the last of the light setting the drifting clouds an tops of the trees aflame, but Elissa had little interest in the scenery of South Reach. Or had they crossed into the Brecilian Forest now? Such details held no significance to the fact that her stomach was protesting against the sudden influx of food she had presented it with and the Warden slumped down against the wheel of Bodahn's cart with a groan.

It had been nine days since they had passed through Lothering and with two extra mouths to feed—four if she included Bodahn and Sandal, though the dwarves tended to make do with their own meagre rations—mealtimes had become increasingly sparse. She had tried to follow the example of her companions and simply tighten her belt but the hunger pangs, aggravated by the taint, were crippling. So when Leliana had finally succeeded in trapping three rabbits, Elissa had almost wept with relief.

Which was why, despite Morrigan's repeated warnings to pace herself, the woman had eagerly accepted the brimming bowl of rabbit stew, swiftly followed by a second. It was only when half way through the third bowl, amidst disbelieving looks from Leliana and Sten, that the distressed signals from her stomach had finally filtered through the euphoria.

Her only response had been to pause, the bowl halfway to her mouth, yet it had been enough to prompt Morrigan to shoot a single look in Elissa's direction, daring the young Warden to regurgitate so much as one mouthful. The Witch had not thought it necessary to elaborate on the consequences should Elissa in fact dare to do so, but the woman had no intention of courting her friend's wrath. That was what Alistair was for.

At thought of him, Elissa allowed her gaze to roam across the small camp in search of her fellow Warden. He and Morrigan had fought over the preparation of the stew and he was now sulking some way from the tents, refusing to come and take his share in any of the food.

A small whimper escaped from her. The thought of moving, especially now she was comfortably slouched, was not a pleasant one. But her conscience needled at her. Each night, without fail, he had offered Elissa a portion of his food. Initially, she refused—especially since it was clear that the taint was causing him to suffer as badly as her—but as the days dragged on, her gnawing hunger had driven her almost to her wit's end. In the end, two nights ago, she had snatched the proffered rations from his hand before Alistair had even finished speaking.

The recollection still caused blood to rush to her cheeks. Maker be thanked, Alistair had simply watched her devour the scraps with a lopsided grin. There might have been some remark about how hungry he had been in his first weeks and months after the Joining, but in all truth she had not paid much heed. Anyway, what he had said was not important. All that mattered was that he deserved her making an effort to repay his generosity.

Struggling up onto her feet, Elissa staggered her way across to the fire and filled two bowls—Maker be thanked for Bodahn and his wares—with stew, ignoring both the good-natured jibe from Leliana and the grunt which rumbled from Sten. Straightening, she moved through the little camp and over to Alistair, the bowls balanced precariously in each hand.

Despite her heavy steps, Alistair pointedly took no notice of her approach and instead continued to stab at the ground with a stick, drawing random shapes in the dirt. She stooped down, deliberately placing the two bowls in the middle of the etchings before settling herself down at his side.

"It's really quite good, you know."

His head turned a fraction towards her and she saw his nostrils flare as he sniffed at the air.

"Go on," she cooed. "Try some."

"No."

Elissa chewed on her lip. The never-ending need to defuse the animosity between Witch and her Warden companion was nearing the limits of her patience, and she had to wonder if maybe there was something more to the way they fought and sniped at each other than she had anticipated.

"I think we need to talk about you and Morrigan."

"Well, aside from the fact that she's a complete and utter _bitch_," the word was spat with as much vehemence as she had ever heard from Alistair, "what else is there to talk about?"

"You seem very certain about that."

"Of course I am. Isn't it obvious that's what she is?"

"You don't think you might be protesting a little too much?"

Alistair shot her a glare over his shoulder. "And what does _that_ mean?"

"Uh..." she faltered, the heat radiating from his look singeing any confidence in her assertion. Maker, she was going to have to learn how to manage these kinds of conversations. Apparently a full frontal assault was not the way to go. "The fighting... and bickering..."

He frowned as he struggled to follow her stuttered explanation. As her voice trailed off and she shot a helpless look towards Morrigan's camp, his eyes suddenly widened and his mouth fell open. "Maker, no! How could you...? _No!_"

"Well, you always seem to be staring..." she began defensively.

Alistair practically choked as he forced out, "not at _her_!"

"Well, who... oh. _Oh_." Elissa reddened at her oversight. She should have anticipated the alternative. "Leliana."

His expression was an intriguing mixture of sheer relief that she had stopped insisting Morrigan was the object of his desire and absolute exasperation that she was still intent on finding someone, _anyone_, who could be the focus of his attentions. "It's not like that."

She shook her head with a heavy sigh. "Alistair, I'm not sure Leliana is inter..."

"Have-you-ever-looked-at-her-when-she-doesn't-see- you?" he rushed out in desperation.

Elissa hesitated, mulling over the question.

Taking advantage of the brief respite from her assumptions, Alistair let out a long exhale. "You're always so busy, you probably haven't. But Elissa, she just looks so..." His expression softened and he stole a glance over his shoulder towards the Bard, who was still sitting at the fire and valiantly attempting to converse with Sten. "...sad."

She followed his gaze. "Really?"

"Yes. I'm not sure what to do." He ducked his head before Leliana could sense that the two Wardens were watching her. "Maybe you could speak to her?"

The earnestness in his request was impossible to refuse and Elissa nodded her agreement. "Alright. I'll speak with Leliana, _if_," she stressed the word, reaching out for one of the bowls and picking it up so she could hold it out to him, "you eat this. Right now."

Alistair examined the bowl with all the wariness befitting a coiled snake before casting a furtive squint in the direction of Morrigan's encampment. "You won't tell _her_ that I ate it?"

With a roll of her eyes, Elissa drew an imaginary cross over her heart with her free hand.

Satisfied that she would guard his secret, Alistair took the bowl with both hands and lifted it to his mouth. Half-hearted sips swiftly developed into large gulps and having emptied its contents within a few minutes, Elissa wordlessly passed him the second bowl.

"What about you?"

She motioned towards the campfire and squashing the small heave which greeted even the thought of one more bite of food. "I've had mine."

With basic civility satisfied, he seized on the proffered second bowl with a wolfishness that brought a wide grin to her face.

"Careful, Morrigan might turn round and see you."

"Worth it," he mumbled in between mouthfuls.

She laughed a little, leaning backwards so that she rested against her elbows and could stretch out in the last of the evening sun. "When this is all over, we'll go to some tavern and just eat and eat and eat."

A small spasm informed her of what her stomach thought about such a notion, but Alistair made an approving noise at the suggestion.

"And we'll have beds! No more tents or bed rolls. Beds with mattresses and sheets in a room with four walls... and with a roaring fire, even if it's the height of summer!"

There was another grunt which she took to be agreement.

"And we're not walking _anywhere_. We'll get people to carry us."

It was his turn to splutter as he attempted to laugh whilst still eating.

Elissa turned her head to share in his amusement but was distracted by the smudge of gravy smeared across his cheek. She shifted her weight onto one arm and lifted the other, reaching across to wipe the smear away with her thumb. "Flaming Andraste, Alistair, you're not eating with the dogs now."

He shrugged, more focused on capturing the last few drops of stew with his forefinger. "Just lick it off."

"_What?_"

His head whipped up at the curtness in her voice and, realising what he had said, he turned a look of absolute mortification on her. "I mean, _they_ would have just licked it off. I didn't... I mean... wow. That, uh, came out wrong."

"You're lucky you're my friend," she grumbled, returning to supporting herself on both elbows while she shut her eyes. "Otherwise I might just tell Morrigan that you thought her stew should have been fed to the dogs."

"That is _not_ what I said!"

Elissa cracked open an eye and peered at him, a mischievous smile playing across her face. "Ah, but who will she believe? Me or you?"

He treated her to a belligerent glare.

"See?" she snorted, closing her eyes once more and basking in the sensation of the sun against her skin. "This is why you need to call a truce with Morrigan."

"But why do _I_ need to do it?" he whined.

"Because you aren't an all powerful Witch of the Wilds who's used to getting her own way."

"If she's that all powerful, then why doesn't _she_ just defeat the Blight?"

"Al-is-tair." Elissa drew his name out from between gritted teeth, eyes still closed, hoping he would heed the warning in her tone.

"Oh, fine."

"Thank you."

"You're lucky we're friends," he mimicked with more than a hint of bad-temper.

She gave a small shake of her head. "Oh, I never said _we_ were friends. I said you were lucky that you were _my_ friend."

"I'm starting to see why you and Morrigan get on so well."

Her eyes sprung open and she rolled onto her side, throwing a light punch against his upper arm as she playfully mirrored the scowl on his face. "At least Morrigan doesn't pout."

Alistair screwed his face up even further.

"You're such a pleasure to be around," Elissa responded with a snort, climbing back up onto her feet. "Really."

He disregarded the chance to return a snipe in favour of shooting another concerned look towards Leliana. "You're still going to speak to her, right? You said you would."

Gazing down at him, worry ridding the last of the scowl from his face as he stared across at Leliana, Elissa reacted on a whim. She leant down and brushed a kiss against his cheek. He was sweet, really. Clumsy and socially awkward; but sweet nonetheless.

"Oh." Alistair wiped at his face with the back of his hand while a self-conscious grin, refocusing on her. "More stew? Sorry."

Sheer disbelief stilled her tongue and Elissa could only stare at him. Did he... did he seriously think she had just _licked_ him? Her father had led her to believe that more than a few of Ferelden's nobility had competed for the chance to win a kiss from her, and yet here this _fool_—to use Morrigan's term —remained oblivious to the prestige she had just bestowed on him.

That would teach her. From now on, any inclination towards demonstrations of companionable affection would be reserved for the Mabari. At least the bloody dog could be trusted to _notice_.

"Yes, Alistair," she forced at last from between gritted teeth, snatching up the empty bowls from where they lay at his feet and pacifying herself with levelling a glower in his direction. "Stew."


	3. Brecilian Forest I

The serenity of the Brecilian Forest was broken only by the soft moans of the sickly elves lying beneath a canopy on the fringes of the Dalish camp. Sitting perched on one of the many chests which littered the camp, her arms loosely encircling her legs which were drawn against her chest, Elissa watched as Zathrian's First, Lanaya, moved between a half dozen makeshift cots. While the elven woman administered herbal remedies in the hopes it might relieve some of the suffering, Morrigan followed in reluctant tow yet despite her disinclination towards healing, the Witch was proving to be an adequate assistant. She anticipated many of the requests which followed Lanaya's dispensing, reaching for a cloth to wipe some spittle or rearranging disturbed blankets to prevent a chill from catching hold and although her touch was firm, it was not unkind.

It reminded Elissa of waking up in Flemeth's hut. Morrigan had remarked that it was her mother who had provided much of the healing necessary for the recovery of both Grey Wardens but watching her now, Elissa wondered if Morrigan had played a larger part in their care than the Witch had been willing to admit.

Lanaya suddenly turned and murmured something to the taller woman. Morrigan nodded in acknowledgement and retreated from beneath the canopy, striding towards the small table near Elissa. Behind her, the Dalish elf hurried in the opposite direction, further into the camp.

"What's going on?" Elissa enquired as Morrigan neared.

The Witch shot her a cool look. "You have nothing better to do than observe me, I suppose?"

Lifting her shoulders in a shrug, Elissa raised her eyes to the darkening sky by means of explanation. It was too late in the day to begin their journey through the forest in search of Witherfang and Zathrian had agreed that they could remain within the security of the camp for a night. Consequently, Sten and the Mabari—whenever Elissa released the hound from her side, he became a constant companion of the Qunari—had taken it upon themselves to search out the elven craftsman whom Zathrian had suggested might have supplies suitable for their quest. Alistair had been entranced at the sight of the halla and quickly vanished in that direction while Leliana, she knew, was speaking with the pretty red-haired elf named Gheyna on behalf of the young Dalish hunter, Cammen.

It had been Elissa's assistance which Cammen had sought but on hearing the delicate nature of the request, the young noblewoman had balked. Such worldly matters were beyond her realm of expertise and as much as she believed herself to be persuasive, she had no desire to have all hopes of a lasting relationship pinned on her silver tongue. Instead, she had deferred to Leliana. Although she did not know much of the Chantry Sister's past, it was clear that the Orlesian had more knowledge with regards matters of the heart than Elissa.

All of which meant that the young Grey Warden was at an unexpected loose end.

Spying the shift of the other woman's gaze and accurately interpreting the meaning, the Witch sniffed.

"Besides," Elissa remarked as Morrigan busied herself with washing her hands in the small bowl of water which stood on the table, "I need to know if you're coming with us or not."

Water sloshed over the side of the bowl and drenched the various herbs scattered about the tabletop, but Morrigan paid little heed. Shaking her head, she remarked, "tis for you to decide, Warden."

A silence fell between the two women while Elissa considered how best to broach the matter at hand. Zathrian had requested that Morrigan remain in the camp while Elissa and the others ventured into the forest. He claimed that the Witch would be a useful asset in the care of the stricken elves yet as far as Elissa knew, there was no evidence that the young Witch of the Wilds possessed any greater knowledge regarding either healing or the curse than Zathrian himself might.

"Why do you think the Keeper wants you to stay?" she asked at last. "Your knowledge of herbs and things is useful, but you have no specific healing magic... do you?"

The Witch took up a cloth and dried her hands. "I do not." She raised her head and Elissa caught the smirk playing around her mouth. It seemed that the fumbled attempt at diplomacy had only served to amuse her. "Therefore in answer to your first question, I do not know. 'Tis strange, indeed."

Elissa searched her friend's face for some further clue as to whether the Witch might be withholding some private thought. Finding nothing helpful, however, she was forced to prod for an answer. "So; what do you think? Should you stay?"

"While I have no desire to traipse through more forest, I do not wish to remain behind needlessly."

Chewing on her lip, the Warden mulled over some of the finer details of their short time amongst the Dalish. "What was it he called you when we first arrived?"

"_Asha'Bellanar_." The pronunciation was not perfect, but it was close enough for Elissa to recognise it as the term which the Keeper had used.

"And what does..." The faint trill of the taint scratched at the back of her head and she nicked at the skin of her lip in sudden panic before realising that it was too faint to be darkspawn. Alistair must have grown bored of the halla and was somewhere nearby. Taking a moment to run her tongue over the cut, she refocused her attention on Morrigan and began her question again. "And what does that mean?"

"I am uncertain." A faint shadow of disquiet settled across Morrigan's expression and she threw down the cloth. "He has not referred to me by it since." Folding her arms across her chest, she turned her head and shot a distrustful glance towards the surrounding forest which in the gloom appeared to be encroaching upon them. "But I believe he mistook me for Flemeth."

Elissa frowned. "How is that possible?"

"It's the nose," a voice remarked.

Twisting round, Elissa discovered Alistair standing behind her, grinning widely.

"It looks exactly like her mother's," he raised his hand and Elissa guessed that he was gesturing to the offending appendage. "Don't you think?"

There was no need for Elissa to turn back to face Morrigan. The heat of the outrage which radiated from the Witch warmed the back of Elissa's neck and she became uncomfortably aware that, positioned in the middle of the pair, she was likely to bear the physical brunt of whatever was to follow.

The young Warden hastily hopped from her seat and planted a hand firmly in the centre of Alistair's chest. Shoving him back towards the dirt path which had been trodden between the Dalish caravans, Elissa offered up a desperate plea to whoever chose to listen that simply putting distance between man and Witch would be enough.

Behind the two Wardens, all that could be heard was a derisive snort. A rustle of clothing accompanied the noise and Elissa realised that the Witch had taken her leave, likely returning to the elves beneath the canopy.

Even as he staggered backwards, Alistair made to protest at his treatment but the sight of the dark scowl on his fellow Warden's face clearly made him think twice. Elissa removed her hand from his chest in favour of stabbing her forefinger against it instead, punctuating each word as she hissed through gritted teeth, "what happened to the _truce_?"

Since it was unlikely that Alistair could even feel her touch beneath his chest plate, the wounded look he levelled at her was all the more infuriating. "A truce is mutual. She keeps making snide comments about me!"

Elissa stilled, her finger pressing against his armour while she stared him out, before abruptly dropping her arm and letting out a long exhale. "I know. I'm not deaf."

"So why not have a go at her?" he huffed.

Groaning, she threw her hands up in the air in exasperation. "Alistair, we've been over this."

"I know, I know," he rolled his eyes, crossing his arms across his chest defensively. "Maker forbid we do anything to upset the mighty Witch of the Wilds."

"Alistair!" Irritation coloured her tone and she spoke sharply. "I _can't_ keep having this conversation! I will _not_ choose between you both, do you understand?" She began to grow more animated as she gave vent to her growing agitation, pacing in front of him. "I know you think I already do, but I don't." Anticipating an interruption, she waved a hand in dismissal of his unspoken objection. "At least, not deliberately." The concession only served to rile her further and she spun on the ball of her foot in order that she could square up to him. "All I know is that playing peacemaker between you both is exhausting! It would be a welcome change if you might make things a little easier for me."

Staring down at her, Alistair appeared dumbfounded at the outburst. He blinked a few times before his shoulders began to hunch and he dropped his head, clearing his throat before mumbling, "I'm sorry."

Elissa cringed. She wholeheartedly believed she was owed an apology, yet this easy capitulation from Alistair was all too shallow a victory. It only emphasised the readiness with which he accepted blame, no matter what the offence.

"Just..." she bit her lip. "Just keeping playing nice with her. I know she doesn't make it easy, but I promise it doesn't go unnoticed."

His head jerked up. "I'm not sorry about _that_."

Elissa balled her hands into fists at her side as her temper threatened to boil over again. "Then what _are_ you sorry about?" She demanded hotly.

"That I haven't been helping to make things easier for you."

She made to open her mouth and was disconcerted to find that there were no words waiting to be spewed forth. He had succeeded in surprising her.

A small grin pulled at the corners of his mouth as Alistair began to realise that she was at a loss for words. Taking advantage of the lull in her barrage of accusations, he held up his hands in acknowledgement of his culpability in the matter. "I am sorry. You shouldn't feel that you're on your own with this."

"I don't _need_ your help," she muttered in belated protest, cheeks colouring at the realisation of the unintended admission she had made. "I can do this just fine by myself. I'm just saying that it might be nice to know I have the option. To ask for your help. If I ever needed it. That's all."

"I know. Trust me; you're doing this much better than I ever could."

A lump sprang to her throat and for an awful moment, Elissa thought she might burst into tears. His heartfelt endorsement of her was all too reminiscent of the support she had always been blessed with from her family, and the recollection of her loss caught her unawares. She stepped back from him and pretended to be momentarily distracted by the appearance of Leliana near the campfire. Granted a moment to gather her thoughts, Elissa herded the stray thought back behind the defences she had constructed in the dark depths of her mind where it could not affect her.

Finally confident that she could trust that her voice would not betray her, Elissa turned her gaze back to Alistair with a small sniff. "Thank you." After a small hesitation, she added fiercely, "_don't_ think this means I've forgiven you about Morrigan, though."

The afterthought was enough to damn her, however, and his grin widened. "Yes, it does."

"Oh!" Accepting that she had lost her impetus for the argument, Elissa let out a resigned groan and threw her hands up once more, this time in public admission of defeat. "You are infuriating."

"It's because you like me more than Morrigan," Alistair informed her in a stage whisper.

Elissa shot him a thinly veiled look. "You're pushing your luck."

"You do though, don't you?" He continued to wheedle an answer from her though the impish grin, accompanied by a telltale mischievous glint in his eye, reinforced that he meant no real malice by his claims.

Sensing that the conversation had descended past a point of any rational discussion, Elissa rolled her eyes and declined to respond.

"Ha! I knew it!" he crowed, content to claim a victory by default.

His good humour was infectious and Elissa soon found herself fighting the urge to laugh. He was wrong, of course. She might like the Witch and her fellow Warden for different reasons, but she would not be without either of them.

With a fond—if long-suffering—sigh, she pushed him in the direction of the campfire. Some of the Dalish were already taking a seat around the fire, and Elissa grabbed Alistair's arm, dodging between the small groups until she reached Leliana. When the two Wardens had settled themselves on the ground, Leliana linked an arm through Elissa's and gestured with a nod of her head towards a spot beyond the immediate reaches of the fire. Looking across the flickering flames, Elissa caught sight of Gheyna and Cammen, heads bowed close together, speaking intently with one another.

Marvelling at the success, Elissa looked back at her friend. "How did you persuade her?"

Leliana shook her head slightly as a warm smile blossomed across her face. "It was not a case of persuasion. That would suggest that she did not wish to be joined with him, no? It was simply a matter of helping her to understand that what she believed was important, was not."

"She wanted to be convinced?"

"In essence, yes. It is a much more difficult task to persuade someone of something which is contradictory to their own values."

Elissa considered the point before humming her eventual agreement.

"Gheyna had an image of how she would be won, as practical as it may be," the Sister continued with a shrug. "I simply pointed out that if she clung to such an ideal, she would likely miss out on the one she truly wanted."

"Well, thank you. I think it earned us some good will."

Leliana beamed at her. "Oh, I am glad to help."

"I must admit though," Elissa murmured quietly, conscious that she did not want to be overheard by the Dalish but unable to stop herself from wrinkling her nose a little. "Being presented with a wolf pelt wouldn't have been my first choice of a gift from a suitor." Her hand flew to her mouth as she attempted to smother the self-conscious giggle which bubbled up. "Not that it was really up to me, anyway."

The Sister arched an eyebrow by means of inviting further explanation.

"Oh, my mother was forever searching out potential suitors on my behalf," Elissa confided, before hastily adding, "though my father would never have allowed someone I didn't like."

Leliana patted at the woman's arm. "I do not believe your mother would have either."

"No, she wouldn't have," she agreed quietly, resisting the urge to again indulge in the painful thoughts which threatened to tumble into her head. "Anyway," she deliberately lightened her tone and focused on Leliana, "my brother used to tease me. He would say that I'd be traded for half a sack of grain and a donkey, and that I'd have to ride back to my new husband's home on the back of his cow, rather than a carriage."

On either side of Elissa, her two companions began to laugh.

"So I used to imagine that someone would ride out and save me from this horrible fate, swoop down and carry me away to his castle instead," Elissa felt the heat burning in her cheeks, even as she shared in their amusement. "This is before I realised how marriage works, you understand."

Alistair snorted. "Just as well. Swooping is bad."

Twisting round to look at him, Elissa gave a small shake of her head. "Not all swooping. How else is he going to get me up on the horse?"

"You're thinking of being swept. Swooping and swept are different."

A faint frown wrinkled her forehead. "I'm pretty sure they're not."

"Sure it is. Swooping is from a great height," he demonstrated by diving down at her with his hands. She batted them away with a disgruntled tut and he grinned, pleased to have made his point. "Swept is the opposite."

"Alright, fine. Then I want to be swooped down upon before being swept off my feet. What's your opinion about that?"

"Wait a minute, swooped down on and then swept off?" He narrowed his eyes at her in playful suspicion while his mouth pursed. "That sounds a lot like what an Archdemon might do. And here I was thinking those dreams you've been having were Warden-related..."

Leliana gave a sigh. "If this is true, Elissa, I do not know what the creature might make of your current profession."

"Oh, he'll understand," Elissa shrugged nonchalantly.

"I'm pretty sure he won't," Alistair objected. "You know, considering you're out with me most days slaying his loyal followers. That's what Grey Wardens do, remember?"

Elissa adopted a mournful tone and pouted. "I guess it was too much to hope that I might find some eligible bachelor among the darkspawn."

"Perhaps it is just as well. Three's a crowd and we would not wish Alistair to feel excluded from the company of the only other Fereldan Warden," Leliana intervened, before catching Alistair's eye. "Unless you have your own flights of fancy, Alistair? You are not in the Chantry now, after all."

"I'm not?" The man feigned a shocked expression. "Why didn't anyone tell me?" He peered at Leliana, studying her intently. "You know, now you mentioned it, I did think that you looked different from the Revered Mother."

Both the Sister and Elissa treated him to a disparaging glare.

Shuffling in his seat under such intense scrutiny, Alistair made a point of examining the toe of his boot. "We're kind of busy with the Blight and everything."

"Well, you know, if the... urge," Elissa waved her hand in the air as though indicating some ethereal influence, "to approach some pretty young maiden overwhelms you, feel free."

"I'm not sure how the Wardens look on fraternisation." He kept his attention focused on the ground.

Elissa leaned towards him and lowered her voice in the manner of a co-conspirator. "It'll stay a secret."

"Are you joking?" He raised his eyes to meet hers and shook his head incredulously. "I'll be the hot topic of conversation around the campfire, just you see."

"It is true," Leliana piped up, another of her tinkling giggles following the remark.

"Leliana!" Elissa chided the Sister, playfully prodding her in the ribs as way of a reprimand for teasing him. When she turned back to Alistair, however, she was unable to resist taking her revenge for the trouble he had caused her earlier. "It is true though. So, I suppose you'd better make sure she's worth talking about, whoever she may be."

Alistair was saved from having to answer by the arrival of Sarel. He acknowledged the presence of the three humans with a brief nod in their direction before taking his place on one of the few wooden benches, clearing his throat as he prepared to weave his tale.

With Leliana captivated by the storyteller's introduction of his chosen tale to the audience, stole a sideways glimpse towards Alistair. He was looking towards the elf, seemingly as intrigued as Leliana by the unfolding story, but Elissa felt a pang of guilt that she had succumbed to teasing him about what she knew was a private matter for him.

She nudged him with her elbow and he turned, shooting her a quizzical frown. "Ignore us," she whispered. "We're only joking."

Alistair gave a soft snort. "I know that."

"I just wanted to make sure. I wouldn't want to..."

"Hush," Leliana shushed the pair of them irritably. "Listen to the story."

Deprived of any other response, Elissa contented herself with exchanging a companionable smile with Alistair, even if his was somewhat bemused. Once satisfied that their friendship remained unscathed, she turned her full attention to Sarel and become caught up in his recounting of the events which led to the fall of Arlathan.


	4. Brecilian Forest II

Bleary eyed, Elissa stumbled from the caravan—_aravel_, she corrected herself. During the previous evening, Sarel had shared his tales of the early days of the elves, with strange words Elissa had been unable to understand but which had captivated her far more than the stories he told. When Leliana, much to the surprise of her companions, had reciprocated, weaving a tale which had—astutely—not dwelled on the involvement of Andraste, but referenced some of the constellations partly visible through the trees above them, Elissa slipped away from the side of her friends and taken a seat beside Sarel.

The storyteller—no, _hahren_ —had initially eyed her with some suspicion but the earnestness with which she pressed the elf had evidently persuaded him that her interest was genuine. He had obliged her pleas to teach her some Dalish and Elissa had revelled in the fluidity of the strange language, though she was painfully aware of how her clumsy tongue stilted the pronunciations. Still, Sarel had smiled when she had murmured _ma serannas_ before heading to bed so perhaps she was not an entirely lost cause.

A soft whinedistracted her from her thoughts and Elissa raised her head, squinting in the early dawn light. An odd assortment of items littered the ground immediately in front of her _aravel _and as her gaze followed the trail, she discovered her Mabari standing in the midst of it all. His head was lowered, his nose snuffling at the remnants of some shapeless thing, continuing to whine as he pawed at it in an effort to unearth a hidden prize.

"What in the Maker's name..." she began beneath her breath, taking a tentative step forward.

The Mabari lifted his head and greeted her with a soft _woof_, his stub tail wagging. Abandoning his sniffing, he snatched at something lying close by and bounded up to her, dropping the object in front of her and crouched low, barking wildly as he enticed her to throw it for him.

Elissa took a step backwards, pressing a hand to her queasy stomach as she readied herself to confront the bloodied half-eaten creature she expected to have been laid at her feet. Steeling her nerve, she risked a glimpse downwards and was caught entirely off-guard to find the gift was simply a crumpled sock.

Stooping down, she grimaced at the damp softness of the material against her skin. Clumps of dirt and strands of Mabari drool clung to it and she half-heartedly shook the sock out in front of her in the hopes that she might rid it of the more objectionable debris.

"Where did you find..." Realisation dawned and she threw the sock from her with a horrified squeal. "Oh, you _didn't_!"

The Mabari had utterly destroyed one of their packs.

Ignoring the dog who was now wrestling the discarded sock into submission, Elissa dodged around the site of wanton destruction and snatched up what she now recognised as a pack. In doing so, the last of the contents fell to the ground and the Mabari abandoned the sock in favour of springing to retrieve the fallen item: a little lump of something wrapped in wax paper.

Elissa let out a groan. Cheese; the hound had destroyed Alistair's pack for a lump of hard cheese.

"You are in so much trouble!" she hissed at the dog. "Give me that!" Seeing him throw his head back as he chewed on the package, she lunged at him. "No, _don't_ eat it! You'll choke!"

Disregarding her warning, the Mabari swallowed his mouthful in a single gulp, paper and all. Elissa froze mid-movement, her hand still outstretched to grab at his harness, but the dog only dropped back onto his haunches and stared up at her with an expression of pure contentment, his tongue lolling out the side of his mouth.

Staring down at him in disbelief, Elissa caught a glimpse of a small fleck of red near the tip of his tongue. It was nothing life-threatening but the thought of her faithful Mabari having hurt himself chased away all irritation and she crouched down, her fingers deftly catching a hold of his muzzle as she encouraged him to open his mouth wider.

"What have you done?" she tsked. "You've cut your tongue, haven't you? Wait, is it your gum..."

Her fingers grazed against a fleck of red on his gum and it fluttered to the ground. Surprised, she released her hold on the Mabari who simply yawned before his tail resumed wagging.

"You're not hurt?" Bewildered, she picked up the strange sliver of red and stared at it from between narrowed eyes. "What is this?"

The Mabari sniffed at it, his brows drawn together, before pawing at the pack which she had dropped at her feet. Trusting to his instincts, though not entirely sure she actually wanted to know, Elissa pulled open the bag and peered inside. At the bottom, there was another flash of red and she seized on it, drawing it out. It tore between her finger tips but when she succeeded in placing the two halves in the palm of her hand, she recognised the delicate shape of a petal.

Glancing up, she surveyed the scene in front of her. Now she knew what to look for, she could see a dozen more tattered petals dotted about here and there.

A wet nose pressed against her bare arm and Elissa turned once more to the Mabari. He dropped something in her lap and she recognised a thin stick... no, a stem. The thorns were plain to see and she gingerly picked it up between thumb and forefinger.

"A rose?" she frowned. "You're certain that this was in Alistair's pack?"

The Mabari gave a short bark. He padded a few steps away from her with his nose to the ground, intent on sharing some other discovery, when he stilled and lifted his head, ears pricked. Elissa strained her own ears, readying herself for an attack of some sorts, when an enraged—and entirely human—bellow echoed throughout the Dalish camp.

The dog—a battle-scarred war hound, no less—turned tail and fled.

Elissa scrambled onto her feet. How Alistair had discovered the fate of his pack, she had no idea but it was evident that he was already on the warpath. She threw a desperate glance around her, his pack still clasped in her hand, but came to the conclusion that there was simply not enough time to hide the evidence. A strategic retreat was the only feasible option at this point, she decided.

Her hesitation damned her, though. Before Elissa could act on the impulse to bolt, Alistair rounded the side of the _aravel_ she had stayed in, having correctly assumed that the Mabari would not stray far from where his mistress slept.

His mouth fell open in dismay as he recognised his belongings which were now strewn about in the dirt, and he levelled an accusing glare on her.

"It was like this when I got here," she squeaked, fidgeting with the stem which was still clasped between her fingers.

He made to retort but his gaze was drawn to her fingers. He frowned for a moment and then his eyes widened and a flush raced across his cheeks.

"He wanted the cheese," she continued in feeble protest. "It was at the bottom of the pack. He hasn't ripped any of your clothes, though..."

Alistair blinked once but offered no acknowledgement of her explanation. He turned away from her and began to gather up his scattered belongings. Eventually though, all that was left was the pack which she still cradled beneath her arm and he rearranged his armful, gesturing that she was to pass it to him. All the while, he kept his gaze firmly averted from hers.

She dropped the stem to the ground and held open the pack so that he could deposit everything into it in one movement. It was a gesture of peace but Alistair only shook his head and snatched at the bag, pulling against her grip with a faint scowl. Elissa made to protest but when one of his shirts slithered from the pile in his arm and fell to the ground, she relinquished her hold. Whirling round, Alistair turned his back on her and dropped the pack on the ground, kneeling down as he stuffed his clothes into it.

"Alistair..."

"I picked it in Lothering." The words were clipped; it was clear Alistair felt obligated to give her an explanation.

Elissa bit at her lip. It was none of her business; so long as he carried his share of their provisions and equipment, Alistair could keep what he liked in his pack. That included something as curious as a single rose. Still, she could feel the question dancing on the tip of her tongue and so she succumbed to what was the inevitable.

"Why?"

His shoulders sagged and a long exhale escaped from him. "After what happened at Ostagar..." He pushed up from where he was kneeling and shuffled round to face her, throwing the pack over his shoulder and fiddling with the strap. "I remember thinking 'how could something so beautiful exist in a place with so much despair and ugliness'. I probably should have just left it alone, but I couldn't." He gave a slight shake of his head. "The darkspawn would come and their taint would just destroy it, so I've had it ever since. I... just wanted to have it, as a reminder." Kicking at the ground with the toe of his boot, he shrugged again. "Stupid, really."

Her heart sank. "It's not, Alistair." She stopped down and retrieved the stem from where she had dropped it on the ground. "I'm so sorry. You saved it from the darkspawn and it was eaten by a Mabari. I... I'll find you another one."

Alistair hoisted the strap of the pack further up his shoulder. "It doesn't matter."

"Yes, it does." She closed the distance between them in a matter of strides and caught hold of the sleeve of his shirt. "It matters a lot. I _will_ find you another one."

He regarded her in silence for a while, a frown still darkening his features, but when he saw that she remained resolute, he gave a shuddering sigh, shifting his weight as he relaxed his stance. "Uh, not to be difficult or anything, but if you just find another one, doesn't that diminish everything? You know..." He pointed at the stem. "Wow, a rare and wonderful thing to find amidst all this darkness," his finger moved to a vague point somewhere over her shoulder. "Oh look, there's another one."

Elissa allowed an indulgent smile to curve the corners of her mouth. "That's not why it matters." She glanced down at the stem and twirled it between her fingers. "I certainly hope it's not the only rare and wonderful thing we're going to find." Hesitating, she snuck a furtive glance at him from beneath her lashes, before adding, "especially since I didn't actually see it."

Unaware he was observed; Alistair rolled his eyes and mouthed some snarky comment that she decided not to try and decipher. After all that had happened, he was entitled to feel more than a little disgruntled.

"It matters because of why you did it," she continued, her voice falling to a murmur. "You didn't want the darkspawn to destroy it."

A small snort alerted her that he was beginning to lose his patience with what he believed to be irrelevant ramblings.

"I'm not explaining this very well." Elissa lifted her head so that she could look at him properly, her grip tightening on his sleeve. "Do you ever think about the taint? What it means for both of us?"

Alistair tensed and a sudden unease flew across his face.

"You don't have to answer," she continued hurriedly, assuming his reticence was because she was straying far too close to very personal reflections. "It's just that I do. I know that's probably not a big surprise; doom and gloom, that's me. I know."

A ghost of a crooked grin materialised on his face.

"I just sometimes wonder what makes me so different from a darkspawn, save for a few decades. If I understand it all correctly, it's what we're going to turn into eventually, isn't it?" She ran a tongue along her lower lip before giving a thin laugh. "That's if we aren't horribly killed first, of course."

He made to speak and she shook her head.

"Just listen," she interrupted sharply. Taking a deep breath, she collected her thoughts and summoned a warm smile. "But darkspawn don't see the simple beauty in a flower. So that must mean that whatever else we are, we're not monsters just yet." She gently tapped at the end of his nose with the stem. "And that's why this matters."

Alistair only stared at her.

A sudden heat scorched at her cheeks and she ducked her head, taking a step back. "I know, I know. Stupid, really... just like you said. It's just what I think, though. Don't laugh."

"I'm not. And it's not stupid." He caught hold of the stem, careful to avoid the thorns, and pried it from her grasp. "So if it's that important to you, we'll find another one. Somewhere."

"No, not us; me. I need to make this..." Elissa waved her hand at the various scraps of unsalvageable items surrounding them, "... up to you."

"Elissa," he smiled at her, voice firm. "It's OK. Really."

She squeezed his arm. "I want to."

She might have added something else but spying a movement out of the corner of her eye, Elissa whirled round and discovered the Mabari peeking out from beneath the _aravel_. Curling a forefinger at the dog, she signalled that he was to come out and join them. Crawling from his hidey-hole, the Mabari slunk towards the two Wardens and dropped down at Alistair's feet, his chin resting across the toe of the man's boot.

Elissa crossed her arms and fixed a black look on the hound. "What do you have to say?"

He let out a long whine.

"Is that all?"

Heaving himself into a sitting position, the Mabari pressed himself against Alistair and gazed up at the man, nudging at his thigh and leaving a wet nose imprint against the fabric of the Warden's trousers.

"He's very sorry," Elissa translated.

"I guessed," Alistair replied wryly. With a wrinkled nose, he leant over and examined the smudge before letting out a weary sigh. "Oh, alright, you can stop looking at me like that. I forgive you."

The dog bounced about the man in abundant delight.

"Yes, yes, we're all one big happy family again," Elissa shooed the dog away before he could topple her fellow Warden with his exuberance. "Stop making a nuisance of yourself! Go find Sten."

The Mabari trotted off towards the centre of the Dalish camp and Elissa began to follow behind, muttering darkly beneath her breath. When she realised Alistair had not fallen into step with her, she stumbled to a halt and looked back. He was staring down at the stem which was still in his hand with a thoughtful expression on his face.

"Alistair?" she called to him.

He blinked and his head jerked up. Seeing her waiting for him, he flashed a wide grin and threw the ruined stem down, crushing it beneath his foot as he broke into a jog to catch up with her. Chattering away to one another, the two Wardens headed after the Mabari in search of their fellow companions and, hopefully, a hearty breakfast.


	5. Brecilian Forest III

Stretching out in front of the small camp fire, Elissa leant back and propped herself against the comforting mass of the Mabari. The dog let out a soft sigh as he adjusted to her weight but then stilled, his soft snores once more muffling the night sounds of the forest which surrounded them. It would not be long before Sten and Leliana returned from fetching water, but for this fleeting moment Elissa was content with her own company.

The branch from the Grand Oak was cradled in her arms. Whatever mystical power it was imbued with would permit them to cross through the mist barrier in the morning, but she hoped that it would also ward off any further attacks from the likes of bears, wolves and ancient sylvans so that they might get some rest. The branch had initially been tied to her pack but after the morning's events—and the wistful glances the Mabari kept stealing towards it—Elissa had decided it was in all their interests to keep the item very close to hand.

She sensed Alistair approach from the tents behind her—fortunate that the taint was ever watchful, even when the Mabari was not—but as he neared, she could hear that he was muttering to himself beneath his breath.

"Talking to yourself is the first sign of madness, you know," she casually called over her shoulder.

Oblivious to the remark, Alistair stepped around the Mabari and entered into her field of vision. She titled her head, ready to continue her gentle teasing, but his appearance caused her to falter. He was dressed as she would expect, save that his torso was covered only by the thin shirt he usually wore between his skin and the linen padding for his armour.

"Do you often wander around wearing only your undershirt?"

That did succeed in prompting a reaction. He blinked at her, his forehead crinkling in bewilderment, before he caught the meaning of the words and glanced down at his clothes.

"Oh." His hand tugged self-consciously at the frayed hem of the shirt. "It's all I have. After what happened with the Mabari this morning, I was distracted from packing properly."

The dog shifted behind Elissa, lifting his head and peering around his mistress to gaze at the man. Letting out a low whine, he shifted his gaze up at her and nudged at her elbow with his wet nose.

"I think it's the least you can do," she nodded her agreement to the unspoken suggestion.

"What?" Alistair jerked his head up.

"I was speaking to the Mabari." Elissa shuffled to one side, shifting the oak branch to the nook of her arm, and patted at the ground with her free hand. "Come sit with us for a while. It's too cold to be dressed like that. With him at your back and the fire in front of you, we'll soon have you warmed up."

His eyes darted back and forth between the woman and Mabari, tempted by the lure of warmth now he had been made aware how cold it was.

"He'll let us know if he gets uncomfortable," Elissa coaxed.

The dog gave a short bark and his stub tail hit against the ground as he attempted to convey his own assurances to the man.

"No," Alistair shook his head.

He moved closer to the fire instead, crouching down as close as he dared, and wrapped his arms around his body. His gaze focused on the dull embers which lay only inches from his toes and he murmured, "I need to talk to you."

Elissa studied his profile, noting how tousled his hair was. It had not taken her long to realise that any internal turmoil Alistair experienced was usually reflected in the state of his hair. The more dishevelled, the greater his anxiety.

"Go ahead." She kept her tone light—she had a sense that the slightest indication of disapproval would spook him entirely.

"What?" He turned his head a fraction, surprise etched across his face.

He hadn't expected her to agree. Whatever he wished to discuss, he already knew that it was likely to prompt some argument from her. That would certainly explain why he was so unkempt at the moment.

Elissa braced herself. "Go ahead and talk."

"Oh." He seemed at a loss. "Right."

Disregarding the fire, he straightened and moved nearer to her once more. His growing agitation meant that his hand crept to the back of his neck as he gathered his thoughts.

"What do you plan to do..." he began, the words coming slowly, "... about Witherfang?"

"What do you mean?" It was her turn to draw her brows together in confusion. Alistair had stood at her side while Zathrian explained why he was unable—or unprepared—to honour the treaty. He knew as much as she did about Witherfang. "Zathrian needs the heart of Witherfang to make a cure."

"Yes, I know. That's not what I meant," he blew out his cheeks. "It's more... you know... what if..."

"What?"

He rushed the words out in one long exhale. "What if we're bitten?"

Chewing on her lip, Elissa felt the drawing of her brows deepen into a frown. "Zathrian gave us some poultices and balms." She gestured in the vague direction of the tent she and Leliana shared where she had dumped her pack. "He assured me they're as good as what we would recognise as healing potions."

"So we can heal any wounds but we still don't know much about this curse or disease or whatever it is. Maybe it only affects elves or maybe the taint would protect us," Alistair heaved his shoulders in a hapless shrug, "but what if both of us get infected and there isn't a cure?"

Elissa found herself at a loss. The treaties had to be honoured if they were to defeat the Blight—hunting Witherfang would ensure that the Dalish would join with them. She had not considered what else might be involved. The conviction with which Zathrian had asserted the existence of the cure was a detail she should have addressed further, but it had not crossed her mind to question the word of the Keeper. Her short-sightedness meant that she had no real answer with which to reassure her fellow Warden.

"Zathrian is adamant there is a cure," she replied, at last.

"But if there's not?"

"Zathrian says there is." She forced her voice to carry the conviction her words could not.

Alistair rubbed at his neck as he took a deep breath, his gaze sidling to the ground at his feet. "Yes, but Zathrian is desperate to find a way to heal his clan."

Since there was nothing for her to say except to repeat her previous assertion, Elissa regarded him in uneasy silence. For Alistair to have forced himself to confront her about this only emphasised the depths of his concern and his continued insistence on discussing the matter suggested that they had not yet reached the crux of the problem.

"I do want to help, if we can," he added hastily, raising his eyes to meet hers. "It doesn't change the fact that we only have Zathrian's word that there is a cure, though."

Elissa offered a nod in terse acknowledgement.

"We're the only Grey Wardens in Ferelden," he hesitantly elaborated, sensing that she was not necessarily following his logic. "Since we don't know if we're immune or if there is a cure, we can't risk both of us coming to harm."

"Well, we have no choice unless one of us wants to go back to the Dalish..." she began with a snort but trailed off as she caught the way he tensed. "Alistair, you are _not_ suggesting..."

"You need to go back. I can track down Witherfang with Sten and Leliana."

Elissa bit down hard on her tongue. She had some inkling that if she dared open her mouth, Alistair would not live to tell the tale.

"Weren't you just talking about this last night?" A flush of anger brought much needed colour to his cheeks as Alistair correctly interpreted her silence as an outright refusal. "You said that you'd appreciate me helping you. This is how I can help. I wasn't joking around; you're doing a much better job at organising us than I ever could. If something happens to you, what do you think would happen about Loghain and the Blight? You need to be the one who stays out of harm's way, not me. I'll search out Witherfang."

Elissa clambered onto her feet, taking care to do so as unhurriedly as possible. She had to—distraction was all that was holding her temper in check. In truth, the discomforting realisation that there was no guarantee that they were immune from a scratch or bite sustained in the heat of battle was one she had no wish to dwell on. That did _not_ mean she would ever agree to this ridiculous suggestion, however.

Rearranging the oak branch so that it nestled more comfortably beneath her arm, Elissa at last trusted to her voice. Speaking in as even a tone as she could muster, she remarked, "you don't like to lead, Alistair."

"No, but there's a clear task. Go through the barrier, search for Witherfang and cut his heart out. I can do _that_," he gritted his teeth, eyes flashing at her condescension. "It's the strategic planning that I don't like. I'm not an idiot, you know."

Sensing the changing atmosphere between the two, the Mabari raised his head and growled a warning to Alistair that his mistress was not to be spoken to in such a manner.

Elissa twisted round and held a finger to her lips. The dog let out a whine of protest and she hushed him with a stern murmur. He dropped his head back onto his front paws but his ears remained cocked as he continued to monitor the situation.

The intervention from the Mabari proved to be Alistair's salvation. When Elissa turned back to her Warden companion, she discovered his hands had dropped to his sides, each balled into a tight fist, with his shoulders set and his mouth pressed into a thin line. The fraught air which had dominated his earlier behaviour had dissipated and in its place was a staunch determination.

This was one argument she was not guaranteed to win.

"I never said you were an idiot," she said in a quiet voice. "I certainly don't think you are."

"So let me do this."

Elissa sucked in a breath through her teeth and focused on exhaling through her nose. She did not think he was an idiot, but she wholeheartedly believed that his suggestion was idiotic. She would not entertain any intention of permitting him to go on without her yet she had to admit to a begrudging admiration that he was willing to do so. It was that which encouraged the scorching heat of her temper to dissipate into the night air. He did not deserve her ire simply for having the strength of his—misguided—convictions.

"Answer me one question first."

Alistair gave a single nod.

"Would you ever agree to stay behind while I went on ahead?"

He narrowed his eyes, understanding her intentions, before giving a deliberate—and vehement—shake of his head.

"Neither will I," she asserted, her voice firm but soft—a feat which surprised even herself. "Not now, not ever."

Alistair held her gaze for a moment more before his confidence crumbled. He let out a sigh, his shoulders hunching, and stepped away from her with a shake of his head. She had clearly exhausted the courage he had built in order to confront her and he was unprepared—or had no reserves—to continue the argument in the face of such opposition.

She reached out and laid a hand on his arm. "We do this together, Alistair. Werewolves, darkspawn, and Maker knows what else—it doesn't matter. We stay together."

"All I can think about is Ostagar," he murmured, voice thick with remorse and his head still bowed. "Maker, all the Grey Wardens lost..."

"Not _all_," she interrupted fiercely and squeezed his arm. Ostagar remained an aching wound for him, she knew, but she hated the power it still held over his mind. She often wished that there was more she could do than simply distract him when the thoughts were especially bad. "We survived. Which is all the more reason to stay together. If we hadn't stayed together then, neither of us would be here now."

He turned his head a fraction and stole a sideways glance at her. "I'm not so sure about that, actually."

"I _am_."

The beginnings of a crooked grin twitched at the corner of his mouth. "Haven't we argued enough for one day?"

She bit at her lip, not wishing to be seen to make light of his grief, but there was a smile burgeoning nonetheless. The relief that their friendship remained intact, if a little shaken, was delightfully intoxicating.

Removing her hand so that she could readjust the oak branch which remained beneath her arm, Elissa shook her head in mock disappointment. "I know. Two stand off's in one day. You have changed, haven't you?"

Alistair adopted a solemn expression. "Yes. You're a terrible influence."

"_Me_?"

"I'll have you know that I was a shy and retiring newly-initiated Grey Warden before I met you." His crooked grin was becoming more pronounced.

"Shy and retiring?" she scoffed, her voice almost rising into a squeak. "When I first met you, you were taking great pleasure in teasing that mage!"

"Oh, I was not."

"And then you offered to dance in front of the whole darkspawn army."

"That was a joke!" he protested with a groan, rolling his eyes. "I was lightening the mood!"

She arched an eyebrow. "And the wearing a dress part?"

"Ah." Alistair reddened, his hand running through his hair, but he was beginning to laugh. "I'd forgotten I'd said that."

Elissa revelled in his lightened mood and joined in with his amusement, laughing outright. "See? You do need me."

"That was my point," he flashed a warm smile at her. "We all need you."

She hesitated, struck by the simple earnestness with which he spoke, before reacting on a whim. Dropping the oak branch on the ground—the Mabari likely would have treated it better—she stepped forward and wrapped her arms around him, resting her forehead against his chest.

Nervously, he cleared his throat. "Uh, this means you're not mad at me, right?"

"It means that I know you don't like speaking out against me," she mumbled into his chest, her fingers unconsciously digging into his shirt and it was only when he winced that she realised what she was doing. She loosened her hold with a nervous laugh and made to pull away. "Sorry."

"I've suffered worse," Alistair teased, looping his arms loosely around her back with a small chuckle. "What were you saying? It almost sounded like an apology."

"It is." Elissa stopped drawing back from him and instead raised her head so that she could meet his eye. "I know this wasn't easy for you. I'm sorry that it was something that I was never going to be persuaded to do."

"Me too," he sighed, before a rueful grin appeared. "I guess I should learn to pick my battles a little better."

A soft laugh escaped from Elissa and she gave him a playful shove. Slipping out of his reach, she whirled round to reclaim the oak branch from the ground and began to walk towards her tent where her pack lay.

"Stay by the fire until we can find you a better shirt," she cheerfully called over her shoulder. "I'll go see what food supplies we have. Leliana and Sten shouldn't be much longer."


	6. Brecilian Forest IV

Elissa knelt at the side of the stream, her knees squelching deep in the mud. She was supposed to be washing, or fetching water, or something, but whatever it was had slipped her mind.

Over the last day or so, as she and her companions wound their way from the ruins in the heart of the forest back towards the Dalish camp, she had found it difficult to concentrate. Their progress could have been quicker—the curse had been lifted, the werewolves released into their human forms, and the intricate balance within the forest somewhat restored. True, there were still the wolves and bears to be wary of, and she imagined that without the Grand Oak's branch they were likely to be at risk from wild sylvans once more, but so far they had not had to defend against any attacks.

Still, she tarried; reluctant to insist on the same swift pace which had brought them to the ruins. There were injuries to consider—all their poultices and potions had been used following battles against walking skeletons, irate dragons, and the werewolves—though nothing so severe as to justify their moderate pace.

No, her feet dragged at the thought of what was to come. Informing the Dalish clan that their Keeper had died was not a task she would relish. She had already decided that the cause of the curse should not be revealed—Zathrian had paid what he could of his debt—but to simply insist that his decision had been necessary was likely to bring little comfort to the elves. Had she any doubt about the choice which had been made then she imagined that her courage to return to the Dalish may have all but deserted her. Thank the Maker for small mercies then, she supposed.

Even so, her mind continued to wander, mulling over all that had occurred, and she had sought refuge in her own company whenever the group stopped to briefly rest or make camp. More than once during the course of the last day, she had forgotten what small task she had agreed to undertake and had come to a standstill, looking about her until her eyes alighted on some clue which revealed her initial intent.

She might have continued to stare unseeingly into the stream, had the taint not begun to thrum at the base of her skill and roused her from her scattered thoughts. Elissa stiffened and her fingers curled down into the mud, the wet grit pushing beneath her nails, as she resisted the urge to swat at the air as though to banish some incessant insect. So long as she kept a constant companionship with Alistair, she could come to ignore the constant buzz which reverberated throughout her blood, but whenever they were reunited after a separation, she often found the initial convergence of their two taints was close to maddening.

Darting her gaze about the muddy ground, she caught sight of two water skins lying forgotten just beyond her arm's reach. Fetching water, then; that was what she was supposed to be doing.

Elissa lunged forward to grab at the water skins, muttering a stern reprimand to herself beneath her breath, and plunged them beneath the fast-flowing water of the stream. She waited a few moments before drawing them out and deftly sealed the tops before any of the water could spill out. Clambering up onto her feet, she turned and dashed up the slight bank, her feet slipping a little in the mud with the effort.

The ferns and grasses which lined the top of the bank obscured Alistair from her sight until she had almost crested the small incline. He stood some paces back from the bank, presumably having seen her from his vantage point, yet his restless shifting hinted towards his uncertainty as to whether he should approach.

Grinding to a halt, she bit at her lip. "Have I been too long again?"

"Long enough to make us wonder, anyway." There was a small hesitation before he evidently felt compelled to offer a rushed explanation for his arrival. "Leliana sent me."

"Oh." Elissa glanced down at the water skins, still dripping from being submerged in the stream, before holding them out towards him for inspection. "Look, I've filled them."

His eyebrows lifted, chasing away the frown which had pinched his brows, while one corner of his mouth twitched. "So I see."

The slight tremor in his voice piqued her attention. Raising her head, she studied him through narrowed eyes and, sure enough, her hard scrutiny was enough to expose the grin he had been trying so hard to suppress.

"What's so funny?" she demanded.

Alistair raised his shoulders in a shrug, his grin widening. "Just the way you said that. As though it was the proudest thing you've ever achieved."

Glancing between him and the water skins, Elissa mouthed the response to herself as she mulled over how it might have sounded. After a while, she gave a little shrug and replied, "it's my proudest achievement today, anyway."

"Are you ready to come back to camp then?"

Elissa lowered her eyes, mouth suddenly dry, and pretended to be absorbed in checking the stopper of one of the water skins. When Alistair did not break the silence which fell between them she felt compelled to clear her throat. "I suppose so. I was just sitting."

"W-e-l-l," he drew the word out, deep in thought. "We could sit for a little while instead, if you want."

She jerked her head up, her fingers stilling over the stopper, and blinked at him. "You'll sit with me?"

"Well if I don't, you might forget to come back," Alistair raised his eyes skyward with a slight huff, but his tone was light.

In spite of herself, Elissa spluttered with laughter. Spinning on her foot, she wandered a little way along the bank until she happened on a spot where the grass grew thicker. She threw a glance over her shoulder to check where Alistair was—he was ambling after her, in no particular hurry—before she sank down on to the ground, sitting cross legged and looking out over the bank of the stream.

They sat together in companionable silence for a while. Insects buzzed, flitting through the shafts of light which fell through the canopy of the trees, while the call of birds—at least Elissa hoped it was something as unremarkable as a bird—interspersed the dull drone. Once or twice, a large splash was audible above the general gush of the stream as a fish fell back into the water after snapping after a fly.

It was serene, listening to something other than the heavy tread of footsteps through undergrowth or the idle chatter between the companions, yet for some untold reason, all Elissa could focus on was the effect it was likely to have on Alistair. He and Leliana had once talked about their contrasting experiences of the Chantry and he had revealed that he hated the quiet of the monastery so much that he would scream until one of the Chantry Brothers came running. _I was just checking_, had been his carefree explanation when pressed.

Eventually, Elissa snatched a sideways glance towards him. He sat with his legs stretched out, leaning back on his hands, head tipped back and eyes half-closed. He was entirely at ease, untroubled and content to simply sit in her company, and somehow that was all that was needed to soothe her.

As the turbulent thoughts tumbling through her head began to drift away, she nudged at him with her elbow. He looked towards her, blinking rapidly as he refocused, before his own smile flourished when he spied hers.

"I thought you didn't like the quiet?" she teased.

"It depends. I thought it might let you talk about what happened," he confided, though his smile wavered as he spoke. "Do you? Want to talk, I mean?"

She shrugged and allowed her gaze to drift away from his face. Near her feet, a long blade of grass bobbed in the slight breeze and she plucked it, weaving the broad stem loosely through her fingers. She had thought her agitation had been overlooked, that her forgetfulness had attributed to tiredness, but it was clear that in future she would need to summon a greater energy to ensure that she was wholly cheerful and attentive in front of her companions so they need not worry about her.

Alistair pushed himself up into an upright position, his shoulders hunching a little as he rested his hands in his lap. "There was nothing you could have done, you know. For Zathrian or the Lady." He paused for a moment, as though gathering his thoughts. "There was nothing anyone could have done."

She turned her head a fraction, studying him out the corner of her eye. Something about his posture compelled her to speak, in spite of herself. "It's not that."

"What then?"

"I don't want to be the one to tell Lanaya."

His eyes widened while his mouth parted slightly in an inaudible _oh_.

"I know I have to," she hurriedly amended, catching his eye properly for fear that he might misunderstand and think she was shying away from her duty. "I just don't want to."

"I hadn't thought that far ahead." His voice was low.

"Strategic planning and forward thinking." Lightening her tone, Elissa smiled as she teased him. "You don't like it, remember?"

Acknowledging the reference to their last argument, Alistair let out a rueful laugh. "No. Just clear tasks."

"Hmm."

"So, I'll come with you."

Elissa shot him an incredulous look. _That_ was unexpected. "What?"

"It's a clear task: accompany you when you speak to Lanaya," he asserted with a brisk nod. "You have to let me come."

She ran her tongue across her lower lip, stalling for time. Her initial reaction was to refuse, but having asked him to show a greater willing to accept responsibility—and then having promptly ignored his attempt to do so—Elissa felt that she owed him this.

"Agreed," she flashed another smile at him, pleasantly surprised to find that she did not have to force the gesture. A small part of her was relieved not to have to approach the Dalish First on her own. "Thank you."

Alistair shook his head in dismissal, but he seemed pleased nonetheless that she had accepted his offer. "Now that's sorted, are you ready to come back now?"

"We can't sit a little longer?"

"We could, but Leliana really will begin to worry."

"What, are you scared of getting into trouble?" she arched an eyebrow at him, pressing her tongue against the inside of her cheek.

Alistair took a long inhale of breath through his nose and shook his head. "You've never been on the wrong side of a Chantry Sister, have you?"

"Not a Sister, no," she conceded with a grin. "Brother, yes. It was a Chantry Brother who taught my brother and me."

"Ah. Well, Chantry Brothers have nothing on Chantry Sisters, you know."

"Is that so?"

Sombrely, Alistair gave a single nod.

"Well, in that case..." Elissa clambered up on to her feet and brushed off the loose grass and dirt which clung to her legs. "...just give me a little while longer and then I promise we'll go back. Stay here."

He stared up at her, his brows drawing together. "What? Where are you going?"

"Just across there," she pointed across the stream to a small clump of flowers on the far bank.

Her eyes had alighted on the blooms of Andraste's Grace a short while ago but it was only with the mention of Leliana that the flowers had gained a greater importance. Alistair was right; they had been away so long that the Chantry Sister was likely to be growing concerned, and it was unfair of them to have allowed that to happen. Maybe later on she could tempt Leliana to recount why the flowers were known as Andraste's Grace—she found that listening to Leliana's stories had become a pleasant ritual which helped to while away the hours between supper and bed.

"Andraste's Grace," she explained. "It's Leliana's..."

"Favourite," Alistair finished for her.

Elissa blinked at him.

"We do talk to one another, you know," he grinned. "But I thought you weren't scared?"

The only fitting response to that was to stick out her tongue. Darting down the bank to the water's edge, she came to a halt and let her gaze roam across the water in search of the driest route across. Trusting to her agile feet, she dodged across the stream in a series of leaps and bounds before landing heavily on the far bank.

Panting a little at the exertion, Elissa scrambled up the slope. On reaching the top, she stood for a moment, hands on hips as she caught her breath, and surveyed the little scene with a slight grin. She had only ever seen Andraste's Grace grow in isolation from one another so to find three so close together seemed to be a sign in itself.

Stooping, she plucked at the flowers, careful not to brush her hand against the delicate white petals which framed the fiery centre of the bloom. With her prizes firmly grasped in hand, Elissa spun round and retraced her steps back down to the stream. Glancing across the water however, it dawned on her that successfully navigating the stream would be a great deal more complicated now she was carrying a handful of delicate flowers.

"What was that about 'strategic thinking' and 'forward planning'?" Alistair called to her conversationally. He had mirrored her movements as she returned to the water and now stood opposite her on the edge of the other bank.

"That's why you're here," she directed a winsome smile in his direction. "Just be ready to grab my arm if necessary."

"Elissa, this won't end well."

She dismissed his prophecy of doom and concentrated on identifying her return route over the water. It was not especially deep so if worse came to worst and she lost her footing, she would only be soaked through. Not life threatening, but certainly an incentive to ensure that she reached the far side without incident.

Committing herself, she jumped from the bank to a flat-edged stone which peaked just above the rushing water. Her balance wavered but before she could topple, she took two strides in quick succession and came to a wobbly stop on a thick branch which had become wedged between some rocks just submerged beneath the water. Through her boots, she felt it shift as her weight bore down on it and hastily looked about for her next footing.

Nothing.

If her upset balance on the first stride had not distracted her, she might have realised that she had to move upstream in order to find a complete way across. Her only option now was a rock near the bank, but it was covered in a green algae and she would need all her dexterity to complete the skip and jump required to reach the safety of the bank. Elissa glanced at the flowers, considering the likelihood of success, and then sighed. No, she was stranded in the middle of the stream.

A sudden splash disturbed her focus. Controlling the instinctive start which jolted through her body, Elissa darted a look in the direction of the sound and let out a squeal.

"Alistair! What are you _doing_?"

He chose to ignore her question and simply continued to wade towards her. Without having to worry where he stepped, it took him only a matter of strides to reach her and the two Wardens stared at one another for a moment.

"What does it look like?" he asked in a mild tone, responding at last to her initial question. "Helping."

Elissa let out a small whimper. "First your shirt and now this. You're determined to catch your death of cold, aren't you?"

"The shirt isn't even mine," he lean forward and spoke in a low tone, as though to a fellow conspirator. "I borrowed it from Sten, remember?"

She pressed her lips into a thin line and pushed the flowers into his hand. "Here, take them. Now get out! I can probably reach the bank if I don't have to worry about crushing the flowers."

Alistair stared at the posy for a moment, his mouth falling open, before he rubbed his forehead with the back of his other hand. "Maker's _breath_, Elissa. I didn't decide to get soaked to the skin for the sake of the _flowers_."

"Well, what _did_ you decide to wade through the stream for?"

He fastened an unblinking stare on her. "For _you_."

"Oh." Cringing beneath his gaze, Elissa felt the colour in her cheeks deepening. That was the more obvious reason, after all. In an effort to save face, she stammered out, "I... didn't, uh, want to presume..."

She trailed off as Alistair greeted the stuttered explanation with a dead silence. After a painfully drawn out moment, his shoulders began to shake and the muscles along his jaw clenched as he bit down on the inside of his cheek.

"What..." Realisation dawned on her. "Don't laugh at me!"

"Why not? It's funny," he spluttered, his amusement let loose. "Flaming Andraste!"

"Oh, it's funny when I embarrass myself in front of you?"

Alistair gulped in a ragged breath. "I embarrass myself in front of you on a daily basis, in case you hadn't noticed."

"So you enjoy that, do you?"

"No, of course not." Hearing the increasing shrillness to her voice, he swallowed the last of his laughter in another deep intake of breath. "But I don't _worry_ about it, at least not in front of you."

"Why not?"

His hand rubbed at the back of his neck as his forehead furrowed. "I don't know. I guess I know you won't hold it against me. Make fun and tease me a bit, but that's it." He caught her eye and his frown deepened. "Why would you be worried about being embarrassed in front of me?"

Pertinent as the question was, Elissa discovered that she struggled to answer it. "I... just am."

"You shouldn't be." He spoke softly, trying to placate her and put her at ease.

"Easier said than done," she replied tersely, feeling the warmth of her blush intensify. "Take the flowers and go back. Go on."

Alistair made to protest but catching the look in her eye, clearly thought better of it. He returned to the bank, deftly pulling himself out of the stream and up onto his feet, causing eater to cascade from his clothes and run back over the edge of the bank.

Freed from taking the cautious approach required by the flowers, Elissa followed via the algae covered rock and landed beside him with a thud. She let out a sharp hiss as a jolt of pain travelled through her knees in protest at the abrupt landing, yet she forced herself to straighten almost immediately.

"See? Easy," she announced brightly, keen to forget her ill-humour, and took the flowers from his outstretched hand.

He rolled his eyes, blowing out his cheeks. "I wish you'd just let me carry you. Might've saved your knees."

She hunched her shoulders but refused to be drawn further. Leaving her to her silence, Alistair climbed up the bank with a notable squelch and retrieved the abandoned water skins. Catching at the straps, he pulled them over his shoulder and turned to her with an expectant air.

"Are we ready to go back now?"

Elissa nodded and hurried after him as he moved in the direction of their makeshift camp, wincing as the uneven ground jarred her bruised knees. Stupid stupid pride, she cursed herself inwardly.

When they at last reached the camp, Leliana sprang to her feet while Sten twisted round from where he sat by the fire and regarded the Wardens with a closed expression. The Mabari offered a rumbling _woof_ in greeting and trotted up, sniffing around them in the vain hope that they might have brought him a tasty gift.

"What is this?" the Sister gave a muffled cry, eyes widening as she cast her eye over the pair. "Alistair, you are soaked through! And Elissa, you're limping! What happened?"

"All in the name of duty," Alistair reassured her with an easy grin. "It's all self-inflicted, don't worry."

Elissa held out the flowers to the other woman. "A gift for you."

"What..." Her voice faded away as she recognised the flowers and a brilliant smile spread across her face. "Oh! How darling of you!"

"Me and Alistair," Elissa corrected, sneaking an apologetic glance towards her fellow Warden.

"My thanks, to both of you." Leliana clutched the flowers against her, inhaling their scent with a wistful sigh, before remembering herself. "Go empty the water skins in the pot and then we can see to supper."

The woman headed towards her tent, fussing over the flowers as she went. What the Sister intended to do with the small posy, Elissa had no idea, but the simple joy the woman seemed to get from the gift was uplifting.

A soft chuckle escaped from Alistair, revealing that he too watched Leliana. "Makes getting soaked to the skin for three flowers almost worth it."

"And hurting my knees," she acknowedged her stupidity at last.

"Yeah." He shivered a little, as though he had forgotten about being soaked through until he reminded himself. "Some people might have even been embarrassed by that tumble. More so than being carried."

"Alright, alright," she grumbled. She shifted round to face him, grimacing slightly as her joints protested at the movement. "I should have accepted your help."

"Why didn't you?"

"Is it so hard to believe that I worry about embarrassing myself in front of you because I want you to think well of me?" she snapped, disgruntled to be pressed and responding with undeserved ire. "Which means that teasing me about how I've embarrassed myself might not be the best way to convince me to accept an offer of help!"

His eyebrows shot up. "Why would you care what _I_ think?"

It was another pertinent question to which she was not quite ready to admit the answer to. "I... just do."

"Oh." He seemed somewhat perplexed and pleased, all at once. It made for an odd expression. "Well, I do think well of you. A little embarrassment won't change that."

Elissa flushed, but a surge of relief flooded through her and the tension in her limbs eased.

"Of course, if you keep shouting at me," Alistair continued, with a pointed look, "for no reason..."

Wincing at the light rebuke, she held up her hands. "I promise I'll try to only shout at you when you deserve it."

Out of the corner of her eye, Elissa spied Leliana as she reemerged from the tent. The Chantry Sister first looked towards the fire then swung her gaze to where the two Wardens were still standing where she had left them. She folded her arms across her chest and levelled a glare in their direction. Apparently, gifts did not guarantee a tolerance for a late supper.

"Come on," Elissa tugged at Alistair's sleeve, tossing her head in the Sister's direction by means of explanation. "Something tells me we'll both be shouted at in a minute, whether we deserve it or not."


End file.
